Just Another Night
by q3344
Summary: We were too lazy to think of a title. Cartman/Kyle or Kyle/Cartman. Rated M for language and sexual content.


Disclaimer : South Park and its characters are owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone. There is no profit involved in this.

Rating : M or R

A/N : It's a sort of a collaboration, although she doesn't have an account. She gets credits and is responsible for some weird vocabs later (because Germans are kinky like that you know)

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Rain during winter in South Park, Colorado, was a rare weather. Cartman usually did not particularly dislike the weather, but those occasional and arrhythmical thunders sometimes flinched him away from concentration, causing him to grunt some profanities under his heavy breath. As evil, sadistic, bigoted, sociopathic and in general just an asshole as he was, his 9-year old human self was still afraid of dark and lightnings.

With a sharp bluish white flash Cartman's room enjoyed a brief moment of illumination, revealing a general mess of it. On the floor were all sorts of junks one could imagine, ranging from crumbled up papers and sketches, old homework and essays, broken pencils to torn or smudged photographs, toothbrushes, tissues, old stuffed animals, and ragged clothings that still had the original owner's name embroidered : Kyle Broflovski. Most of the junks, however, were kept in meticulous care that could match the preservation of those annoying pricks like CSA, but Cartman didn't have time for distraction. CSA or American law and order could go fuck itself, and there were several cases where Cartman had literally fucked the American law and order, but that pleasure could never measure up to what he held in his hands.

Cartman carefully opened the plastic bag. A faint fragrance spread across the dark room, and Cartman inhaled the familiar smell that had changed little since he added it to his collection. It was a pair of Kyle's gloves, thought to be buried under snow and frozen into oblivion. Kyle probably didn't even remember that he had lost those gloves. It was particularly valuable from the fact that Kyle had made them himself until he realized knitting was an activity restricted to the old and boring female population, something even his mom wouldn't do voluntarily. Cartman knew exactly how much painstaking effort the young Jew put into those rather tiny and simple gloves; he was there the whole time, mocking him about how Jews were too cheap to buy gloves, so they were making what crappy ones they could with their dirty and miserable hands. (Of course it was a shameless lie. Kyle was the quick-minded one, picking up intricate skills that required dexterity with much ease.) Kyle had finished the gloves in flaming anger, the memory all the more delicious.

Then Cartman gently wrapped his fingers around his fireman, closing his eyes and imagining them to be Kyle's. He slid them slowly, gently adding the grip, his erection soon giving off some dew due to stimulation. He imagined Kyle's focused expression, his soft hands tightly and rhythmically massaging his shaft, quickening the pace as Cartman's breath became nearly uncontrollable. As Cartman was getting close to the verge of climax, Kyle whispered briskly in his ears, 'I want to fuck you like a dirty whore you are, Cartman,' and Cartman could see his bulge, almost aching just to look at it. Kyle stopped for a moment to shift himself behind Cartman. As Kyle's hands – one of them still wet from Cartman's arousal – parted Cartman's ass cheeks, he could feel the warm moisture on Kyle's fireman slowly circled around the sensitive entrance. Kyle swore under his breath as he entered Cartman, and after pushing in a few times Kyle reached Cartman's prostate. Cartman could almost see Kyle's grin. Cartman quivered under each thrust, sometimes gentle and sometimes merciless, massaging and teasing his prostate. Consumed in blind lust, Kyle pounded into Cartman with all his Jewish stamina, while Cartman hissed and moaned between his teeth. Kyle's fireman started to quiver as he came, pushing Cartman over the edge and both fell down to the blinding blackness of pleasure. Kyle cried in sweet exhaustion and ecstasy, 'I love you Cartman!' before collapsing, and both boys lied motionless for a few seconds on the bed, savoring the afterglow. Cartman shivered slightly in satisfaction as he felt Kyle's warm semen dripping between his legs.

Cartman pulled out his fingers. He put the glove back into the plastic bag, sealed it tightly and swiftly. He pulled out a tissue and cleaned his sticky mess, then proceeded to store away his collection as usual; it had become an almost daily ritual now. He crawled into his bed, staring at the dark ceiling. He was exhausted, but he couldn't go to sleep. He knew fantasy was becoming painfully inadequate. He needed the real thing. Like a strike of lightning, a scheme glimmered through his mind, forming a small grin on his face as he fell into an adolescent dream...

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To be continued.


End file.
